Where's Gaston?
by watlocked
Summary: What if, Belle found out what Rumpelstiltskin did to Gaston, her betrothed before he took her from her father? Not set in a season, or even an episode - just a little fluffy Rumbelle piece I thought up this afternoon. I have never written Rumpelstiltskin before, and the ending feels a little dodgy, but . . . I hope you like it. :) Let me know.


**Author's Note: so this is just a fluffy fun piece I wrote this afternoon focused on Rumpelstiltskin and Belle. Not set in any particular place, not really any spoiler alerts. If you don't know what happened to Gaston and don't want it ruined don't read, because that is the focus of this story. If you notice anything you think could be improved give me a holler in the reviews or a PM. Thanks for reading!**

**Disclaimer - I do not own any of the characters - I am owned by my imagination however, so I follow where the ideas lead me. **

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The kitchen was filled with wondrous scents as Rumpelstiltskin made his way into his house, listening to the varied chitter chatter coming from Belle's breakfast guests. Separating out the conversations he determined that Emma, Henry, Snow, David, Regina, and Dr. Hopper were all here. Quickly slipping upstairs he changed into a more relaxed wardrobe and descended the stairs to the kitchen, ignoring the slight stutter in the discussion at the table.

"Morning Belle," he greeted his true love as she flipped bacon carefully.

"Morning Rum," she greeted him back, gracing him with a genuine smile as she looked up, taking note of his informal attire of pants, a black belt, and a white shirt - no jacket. "Doing anything in particular today?"

He shook his head, picking up the tea kettle and going over to the sink. "Nothing really. Might mix up a few potions; finding spells seem to be in high demand, so . . . "

"Mmhmm," she nodded in agreement.

Placing the lid on the kettle he placed it on a burner, snapping his fingers to turn the burner on.

"Anything eventful occur while I was out?" he asked, getting the sense that there was something, off, about her.

"Not really," she dodged the question, putting the bacon on a plate to carry over to the table.

He froze while getting a tea cup out of the cupboard. "Oh?" he rested his hand on the shelf, turning slightly to look over his shoulder at her back. "Anything, uneventful?"

She stopped in front of the table and sighed before putting the laden plate on the table. He noticed now that their guests had fallen silent and were just watching the two. "My father stopped by," she stated, rubbing her hands on her apron as she turned around.

He quickly turned back and picked a cup randomly, setting it down on the counter gently as he moved to get out the tea. "And?" that couldn't be all that had happened. That man rarely just 'stopped by' - he always had a hidden agenda.

She hesitated, rubbing her hands together nervously.

He fought the urge to smash something or snap at her. That would not help, and, he reminded himself while purposefully breathing deeply - honesty was the key, as Prince Charming had told him.

"Well, he kind of, I don't know, reminded me . . . of someone," she started, timid and scared.

Closing his eyes momentarily he breathed deeply, snapping his eyes open and walking over to turn off the barely whistling kettle. "Who did he remind you of?" he set the hot kettle on a pad as he measured out the loose leaf tea.

"Well, actually, he kind of, made me wonder," she stuttered slightly.

"Ask me anything," he said, a little to lightly perhaps, but he was getting tired of dancing.

"Have you any, idea, where Gaston is?" she asked innocently.

_Crap_. his hand froze over the kettle, heart racing as a memory flashed before his eyes. A pompous, arrogant Noble on his doorstep, spouting some puffed up idea of a challenge. A snap of his fingers, a haze of purple - a red rose on his doorstep. "Who?" he took care to keep the breathlessness out of his voice.

"Gaston, my former betrothed - you know, before we, we made the deal to, protect my family," she said, kindly reminding him.

"Ah, yes, Gaston," he turned to face her, a smile in place.

"Have you any idea where he is?"

Pretending to think he fought the urge to smile at the memory of her carefully trimming a rose to perfectly fit into the vase she selected. "I haven't seen him of late," he turned back to the tea, pouring the water in, then setting the kettle back on the stove.

"Isn't that a bit odd? I mean, shouldn't he have come through with the curse?" she had turned back to the still silent table.

"Well, magic can be finicky - after all, there was an entire village that remained in the Enchanted Forest," he winced when he said it, knowing exactly where her mind would go from there.

"So, he must've been in the village . . ." she trailed off.

"That might be entertained as a possibility," he bit his lip, straightening the various papers that were currently scattered across the counter.

He heard her movements still, catching onto the fact that he really wasn't answering her.

"Rumpel?" she sounded like she had her hands on her hips.

"Yes?" he turned to look at her sideways - sure enough, her hands were on her hips.

Her mouth opened in an oh and her eyes widened. "What did you do?" she asked breathlessly.

He winced and turned back to the counter, thinking of how he could answer.

"Rumpel," she turned his name into a demand.

Sighing, he hung his head, bracing his arms against the counter. "Um, well - you recall the flower lady?" he asked, thinking it might be best to guide her to the truth instead of telling her outright.

"Flower lady?" she sounded completely confused.

"It was before we really knew each other, about two months after you came to work for me," he said, licking his lips nervously. "We'd just had the, conversation, about the children's clothes?"

"Okay," she answered slowly.

"And I, uh, I answered the door," he hesitated.

"Yes."

"And then I gave you a rose," he braced himself for a verbal onslaught.

She was silent for what seemed like an eternity, finally speaking. "You gave me a rose," she said.

He sighed; she sounded close to sobbing.

"That rose - it was," she stopped, about ready to bawl, he could tell. "You turned Gaston into a rose?" she sounded heart broken, her voice breaking.

Fighting the absurd urge to laugh or smile he took a deep breath and turned to face her. Standing with her hands still on her hips she looked, ready - to burst out laughing. He cocked his head in confusion.

Obviously fighting a smile she nodded her head and looked down, tapping her foot.

"Yes," he answered honestly.

"And then you gave that rose, which was really Gaston, to me?"

"Well he did come looking for you, so I thought it only fair at the time," by this time he was fighting a smile himself.

A smile momentarily broke through, but she quickly removed it. Putting a hand to her mouth her shoulders shook in silent laughter.

The breakfast guests were all stunned - well, all but Regina. She just sat staring at him incredulously; all the others were staring at Belle, waiting to see what she'd do.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked carefully.

Taking a moment to compose herself she considered the question. "I should be."

"Yes, well; the rules of proper society strictly dictate you to be so emotionally affected. After all, you just found out I turned your betrothed into a rose," he felt the corner of his mouth quirk upwards.

"Yes, I did," she nodded, biting her lip.

"So," he breathed in deeply, stoically maintaining a straight face.

"Sooo," she drew the word out, losing her interal battle with mirth. "What happened to the rose?"

He furrowed his brow, cocking his head to think. "I have no recollection."

She giggled, immediately covering her mouth. "You lost him?"

"More like intentionally misplaced and, or forgot the specific location of his whereabouts due to the irrelevancy of it in relation to my business," he smirked, watching her struggle to stop laughing.

"But, why didn't you ever tell me?" she asked, smiling.

"I didn't think you'd take it very well," he said with a small smile, turning to get his tea.

"I probably would've thrown him out the window," she said, surprisingly sober from her fit of laughter.

He smiled, laughing quietly as he watched the water drip from the tea strainer. "Oh really, dearie?"

"Yes," she came up behind him and kissed his cheek lightly. "But thank you for not telling me."

And with that breakfast resumed, although the guests were still in shock, looking at each other with stunned expressions.

Rumpelstiltskin just leaned against the counter with his tea in his hand, smiling behind his cup as he watched Belle continue her work in the kitchen. Belle - her name meant beauty. And a beautiful sense of humor she had.


End file.
